Princess Damnation
by CropsyManiac
Summary: The war of the royals has ended in a stalemate. Now living at a new location with an even larger mansion, Lilliane and her tenants find themselves a little understaffed. And as Hell prepares a second invasion of Earth, Lilliane and her usual staff will find that 'importing' a space marine was a useful choice after all. Riza/Hiro, Rated M for strong language & intense violence.
1. Hell on Earth

This is a work of fanfiction - Princess Resurrection and Doom are both property of their respectful owners.

Now that the manga for Princess Resurrection has ended, I finally got everything i need to start this story. As said in the description this story is quite violent, and will have a RizaxHiro (PR) pairing later on. With effort and luck, I hope to make this story readable/enjoyable for fans of Princess Resurrection and the Doom series of games, and especially a treat if you happen to be a fan of both.

This chapter introduces the Doom elements of the story, and will connect to the PR side of things in the next chapter.  
Also, as always, I might tweak this chapter a bit for any further consistency/flow issues and errors.

* * *

_Survival is such a strange thing. The will to stay alive has always been a very human trait, one that has been cemented into the core of our existence since the very dawn of our time. So doesn't it seem ironic that, the harder we fight to survive, the more of our humanity we shed in the process...?_

Somewhere in the USA; 2009 A.D

Streaks of fire smolder along the blackened sky, casting a morbid light upon the bloodshed below. What was once a city teeming with life is now a barren labyrinth of steel and concrete; the bustle and commotion of the living forever lost amidst the echoes of the crackling flames. Where the streets used to shine bright under zooming traffic and city lights, only the flames of a lost battle remain to shed light upon the blood-soaked asphalt. Gore-soaked paper and forgotten debris blow along the infernal wind, and the stench of death follows ever-vigilant.

'City life' had become life no more. The bodies of an unsuspecting population are splayed by the thousands all across the urban nightmare. Men, women, children - all have become shredded corpses; with limbs torn away and flesh half-consumed, the bloodied faces of the dead remain forever frozen in their final agonized screams. For these poor souls, there was neither sanctuary nor escape. Their vehicles became coffins of steel, and the buildings were made their tombs; nothing but markers for the dead in this graveyard of the innocent.

But in the central point of the city, one building remains mostly intact; The Union Aerospace Corporation Research and Development Complex. Housing multitudes of projects for advancement in travel and technology, it provided the funding for many of the city's developments. As such, it was almost literally the 'heart' of the city; and towering above all other structures at 50 floors in height, it certainly looked the part. However, of all the technology researched there, the 'Slipgate' project is by far the most illustrious. Slipgate technology allowed the creation of portals between two different locations, allowing instant travel from one portal to the next; and this complex is one of the seven buildings on this continent to have one of these portals.

As home to one of these devices, the 'heart of the city' unknowingly sealed its own demise.

All seven slipgates around the country were linked to two outposts on the moons of Mars; one on Phobos, and one on Deimos. At these outposts, the UAC had hoped to further develop and explore the possibilities of Slipgate technology; but what they unleashed was something far greater – and far more deadly- than they could ever have anticipated. The science team on Phobos unwittingly tapped into a dimension of madness and suffering, a land of unspeakable horrors never meant to be witnessed by the living.

Horrifying creatures of death and despair poured from the gate by the thousands, mangling and devouring all in their path; within an hour, the Phobos complex fell. The UAC-operated military outpost on Mars received a distress call amidst the panic, and dispatched its marines towards the Phobos outpost, but it was already too late; Phobos was overrun. The creatures had managed to reroute and re-engineer the slipgates to create a direct link between their world and the existing portals; and upon ravaging the Deimos facility, they immediately set their sights upon Earth.

As for the soldiers dispatched to Phobos, they never stood a chance. Ambushed by an unknown enemy, the entire force was torn to ribbons, leaving no survivors to stand in their way. No survivors, that is, except for one...

A single spark of life, a sole marine who managed to survive the massacre of his companions on Phobos, blast his way through Deimos, and face the nightmare that awaited him within the dimension of evil. The return to Earth did not mark the end of the war; his home continent plagued by the enemy, he fought to destroy the seven slipgates before the creatures have the chance to spread across the Earth. And now, on the fiftieth floor of the UAC Research and Development complex, this single spark approaches its final target...

–

Deafening cracks of gunfire echo throughout the metallic hallway in steady rhythm, the clangs of ejected casings against the ground following close behind. Shards of glass propel onto the advancing force as two windows shatter under gunfire, the air teeming with the shrieks of the enemy as their bodies thud against the cold metal floor. In any normal war, these are the sounds that would echo in a soldier's nightmares for eternity; but this is no normal war, and these are not human enemies.

Clawed and hoofed feet alike clink and crash against the metal tile as creatures of all shapes and color continue their advance down the hall. Some adorned with spikes, and some bare, the creatures' hardened, leathery skin is illuminated beneath dim orange light from the flaming cityscape beyond the tower facility's windows. Enamel coated with the gore of the innocent, the monsters bare their razor-sharp teeth fiercely as they descend on their sole target. They are torturers; killers; ghastly monsters from the darkest depths of hell. Knowing neither mercy nor compassion, they murder all in their path with sickening efficiency.

Demons.

But on the other side of the hall, the figure continues his advance against the legions of Hell, an eight-barreled rotary chaingun held still within his gloved hands as he fires on his targets. Bloody limbs, shattered bones and internal organs soar as the high-caliber rounds hit their marks, mangling all in its path beneath a merciless stream of lead. Unholy screams of agony sear the blistering air as one-by-one, the hellspawn slump onto the gore-soaked ground, the sheen of the metal floor obscured beneath the corpses of the damned.

Nevertheless, the demonic resistance seems to continue as a dozen more fiends crash through the metal doors on the side of the hall. Their eyes gleaming red and brown clawed hands lit with unholy fire, they stand in positions in front of and behind the man, raising their arms to throw their flames in his direction. The soldier snarls – surrounded on both sides in this narrow hallway, the situation has become too complex to tear down with his chaingun. Making a split decision, he throws the massive beast of a weapon at the creatures blocking his immediate path, sending several of them crashing backwards just as their fireballs begin to fly. Quickly, he dives onto the floor; the volley of fire from behind him flies overhead and bursts against the creatures still standing in front of him, as the fireballs from the front smack against all the enemies attacking from behind.

The still-standing fire-wielders stumble back from the impact of their companions' fireballs as the creatures on the ground pull themselves back onto their feet, giving the soldier plenty of time to reach the plasma gun on his back. In the matter of seconds it takes for the monsters to regain their bearings, it's already too late - bright blue spheres of energy rip through the air and burst against the flesh of the hellspawn behind him, and a second volley of plasma blasts sears the enemies to his front a mere second later.

Screams of anguish fill the gore-ridden hall as the congealed plasma sticks to the creatures' bodies, rapidly melting the flesh from their bones. Some of the luckier demons die in place within a few seconds, slumping onto the ground as charred, partially liquified corpses. The unlucky ones didn't die from the blasts so quickly – in skin-melting panic, they find themselves smashing through the windows and plunging to a screaming demise against the streets fifty floors below.

With the demons' ambush brought to a grisly defeat, few remain standing in the marine's path. And now, for the first time, he can see it in their eyes - fear, desperation, and panic, 'emotions' much like the real ones that they wrought on their innocent victims. Despite their best attempts to kill the challenger and protect the final gate to their unholy realm, their blood continues to flow defeated along the body-ridden floor as their ranks run ever thin. It's enough to make a man smile; but unfortunately for them, it's not enough to make a man stop shooting. The sound of several bodies splattering into a thick mulch echoes through the hall for the last time before the plasma blasts finally come to a halt.

Waist-deep in bodies, the man finally releases a sigh from beneath the respirator of his greyish-tan helmet, further soaking his light brown gloves as he wipes away the excess grue splattered on his visor. The video feed on the lower part of his helmet's visor-display, although a bit fuzzy from damage, still gives the marine a clear view of his face and vital signs from within the confines of his headgear. Light brown hair, blue eyes, and hardened features; he can at least take a bit of reprieve in the fact that he still looks like the person he knew before everything went to shit. Although tired as all hell, his vital signs remain strong; still packing more than enough life in his bones to bring this fight to its conclusion.

Taking another moment to check his equipment, the lone soldier looks down at his gear. While his assortment of weapons still remain in decent shape, the green armor adorning his chest is caked in blood and battered with claw marks, and his matching military pants are almost completely stained red. Heck, he can't even see his greyish-tan boots underneath the sea of corpses that now carpet the entire passageway. Waging war against Hell itself has taken its toll on him and his equipment.

But there's no time to mull over that now; beyond the door in front of him, the final slipgate stands intact. He will have to traverse through the portal and eliminate the source of this invasion before it finds a way to spread beyond the American continents. With luck, he can make it back through the slipgate, turn the piece of shit into scrap metal, and escape this fucking 50-floor tomb of a building.

Moving in for the final stretch, he activates the metal tech-door in front of him. The red glow of the active portal permeates the open doorway, ushering its challenger forward.

"I'm demanding a vacation..."

With one last promise to himself, the sole marine ventures into the lungs of Hell.


	2. Princess of the Dawn

Here's the second chapter. This one introduces the Princess Resurrection elements and begins to tie them with the Doom side of things. I changed the Doomguy's name to 'Flynn Taggart' like the books, since I like the name better, but the story element of being a descendant of the Blazkowicz line still holds.  
And of course, as always, I'm likely to clean/edit this chapter for flow/grammar (and added story elements if I find it to be absolutely neccessary).  
Enjoy!

* * *

4 years later, near the town of Sasanaki, Japan...

"Riza! Riza, wake up!"  
The young Japanese boy latches onto the redheaded girl's arm with both hands, waggling it vigilantly in an desperate attempt to wake her from her sleep. Unfortunately, it yields little result – the woman simply grumbles as she stirs mildly in her sleep. The boy sighs – it seems like she always sleeps like this on the weekend.

"Riza~!"

He calls out her name once again, but the slumbering girl still refuses to yield. The boy gulps with resignation – it looks as if desperate measures can't be avoided in a situation such as this.

Taking in a deep breath, he holds out both hands only inches above her ears; and with one swift movement, he pulls his hands apart and smacks them together loudly over her head.

"_**GAHWHATTHEHELL!**_"

For a split second, the girl's hair seems to shoot up in electrified shock from her rude awakening , her body almost-instinctively flipping onto its feet with fists raised. Her hair relaxes, settling back into place within a millisecond – the rest of the girl, however, not so much.. The boy quickly finds himself in the air as he's yanked angrily be the collar.

"**HIRO, YOU SHITLORD! WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA!?"**

Face-to-face with the hot tempered girl and his legs dangling inches from the ground, Hiro can practically see smoke spewing from the furious redhead's ears. Wasting no time, he nervously stammers out his defense.

"H-Lilliane-"

Hiro stumbles for a moment – with Lilliane no longer a warring member of the royal family, breaking the habit of referring to her as 'Hime' had become a rather clumsy battle.

"Lilliane hired an extra servant a week ago, r-remember? We were supposed to clean out the extra servant quarters an hour ago! At this rate, they'll be here any minute!"

Riza's expression flips from furious anger and straight into a mix of frustration and mild panic.  
"W-wha?! Damnit! Why didn't you wake me up earlier!?"

"I've been trying...", the boy sighs as he peers towards the side of the room. "Trying for an hour, to be exact.."

"Oh.. Er.."

Glancing awkwardly to the side, she mutters to herself quietly as she gently places the boy back onto his feet – much to his relief. She frowns slightly as she watches the boy straighten himself out, a tinge of guilt swimming in her gut – it's a hell of a way to wake up, sure, but maybe she was just a _little_ too rough on the guy.

Raising her hand back behind her head, she runs her fingers through her hair nervously as she speaks up once again.

"Heh, uh.. sorry; I guess it's kinda my fault for not waking up earlier.." she chuckles quietly, Hiro staring back at her with intrigue and surprise at her unusually apologetic attitude.

"H-hey, let's head into town later and I'll make it up to ya!"  
Riza puts on her best smile – as wolfish as ever, but genuine to be sure. Though confused slightly by the sudden u-turn in his situation, the boy returns the smile.

"Y-yeah, that'd be great!"

She chuckles, leaning in to pat him on the shoulder. Such a good kid...

Unfortunately, time has a tendency to fly quicker than most people realize -The sound of heavy knocks against the mansion's oaken entrance door reverberate through the building, marking the arrival of the newest staff member.

"**OH CRAP, THE ROOM**! COME ON, HIRO!"  
She shouts as she jumps into action, her hands wrapping tight over the boy's wrist

"R-righ-AH!"  
Quickly yanked out the door by his redheaded companion, the boy doesn't even get a chance to let a word out.

The regal-looking blonde woman quickly responds to the knocks at the door – She's the only who can receive the new arrival right now, after all; Reiri is almost definitely asleep, and judging by the sounds from below, Hiro and Riza are engaged in a last-minute rush to finish a job they were supposed to start an hour ago. Regardless, it's still the job of an employer to receive their new employees personally. Without hesitation, she turns the handle and pulls the doors open.

Standing there with a confused expression is a six foot, six inches high caucasian man with a slightly grown out military cut – light brown hair, blue eyes, and well-built, wearing a simple white t-shirt and what appears to be green military pants. There are some light, barely visible scars scattered over his body and face – two light light scars, one on the chin and the the other center of his cheek; several darker scars along his arms; and an especially large one on his right shoulder, peering out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Most of them seem to be carved in sets of threes and fours; no doubt the work of some type of creature.

A soldier – one with combat experience against the unnatural and unknown. Just as advertised.

A subtle, yet satisfied smirk along her features, she steps to the side of the door and ushers the guest inside.  
"Ah, you've arrived at last. Please, come inside."

Cautiously, the man steps into the mansion. This building certainly isn't the kind of place he would expect to see in Japan - if anything, it was more European in design. The lobby itself is two floors in height, with walls of ornate oakwood and grey marble wainscoating - connected decoratively with the paneled oak ceiling through a marble trim. A stairway of the same grey marble ascends onto a second floor, supported from underneath by a set of four pillars.

And that's to say nothing of the decor; the multitude of doors throughout the lobby all stand under guard between suits of armor of just about every origin - two suits of matching country for each door, each set wielding a different type of medeval weapon in their clenched gauntlets. The room's marble elements are also usual, with almost every inch of the stone surface covered in faint reliefs of various monsters in all sorts of different scenes and situations. And at the very top of the room, rather unholy-looking gargoyles jut out from the corners of the marble trim, their ghastly details fully visible beneath the bright light of the bronze chandelier that hangs from the center of the ceiling.

The man can't help but frown just slightly; he hadn't expected to be spending his vacation in Japan's equivalent of the Overlook Hotel.

"Ahem."  
The woman clears her throat, the sound snapping the marine back into reality.

Facing the blonde-haired woman again, it suddenly occurs to him: the mansion isn't the only unusual thing here. This woman - there's something... 'off' about her. She looks and sounds human, for sure - she can even speak perfect english - but her eyes are another story. Albeit mostly human in structure, her pupils are much thinner than a normal human's; not to mention, he can't remember bright crimson being a natural eye color...

"Alright, follow me."  
The woman waves her hand in her intended direction, beckoning for the man to follow as she  
heads for a door by the stairs

Almost instinctively, the soldier follows. The two enter into a rather small parlor-like room, wherein two elegant couches sit parallel to each other - only a small coffee table and a bit of footroom separating the two seats. Adjacent to the couches, on the far side of the room, another door continues to elsewhere in the mansion - but that's none of the marine's concern right now. Still tired from his trip, the soldier plops down onto the couch.

With much more refined movements, the woman sits herself down at the opposite couch  
Her expression hasn't changed much since he first walked through the door - a rather serious and determined face, one rather mature for a woman who can't be any older than eighteen or nineteen. Finally, after the brief silence, the woman finally speaks up

"So, Flynn Taggart was it?"

The man nods..

"Excellent. Well then, lets talk business, shall we?"

Wait, business? She's probably just referring to the fare for the room or whatever - or at least, that's what the soldier reassures himself with.

"Right.", Flynn begins to speak; "As far as 'business' goes, I'm pretty sure the Corps have already taken care of the expenses - or at least, they damn well better have, because I was supposed to be on my way to Hawaii." he grumbles.

"Er.."

Quickly recognizing the somewhat resentful nature of his comment, he stumbles back on his words.

"I mean, uh, don't get me wrong - you got a nice place here and everything - but nobody really likes last-minute changes, right?"

Flynn laughs quietly, hoping to break his obviously disgruntled demeanor; but the woman merely smirks, as if his attitude makes no difference regardless.

"Ah, yes; that's right. You were supposed to be on vacation, weren't you?" she chuckles; "My apologies for the unfortunate timing; it seems my request for your transfer here was unexpectedly delayed."

"Wait. _Supposed_ to be on vacation?!" he growls, now understandably disturbed with the current situation.

"Are you trying to say-"

Flynn continues, but the woman raises her finger, unphased by the soldier's anger as she quietly cuts him off.

"Oh, please excuse me for a moment."

"Flandre!"  
She calls out a name - probably a servant or handmaid or something - before presenting her explanation.

"What am I trying to say? Well, Mr. Taggart, let me put it this way: you're going to be officially stationed here under my command for a couple weeks. I'm afraid vacation will have to wait."

This has gotta be some kind of joke.

Flynn sits in silent awe, trying to make some kind of sense of the baffling information he just received. How the hell does this girl have connections in the US Military? Why on earth did she pick him? And most of all, does she know about-.

"Huga."  
A single sound from the doorway interrupts his train of thought. He glances towards the doorway to identify the source - but despite what his intuition tells him, there's nobody standing there..

"Hugahuga."

Wait a minute..

He peers downwards - standing there is a three foot high girl, probably about three or four years old. Her presence in a place like this would be strange enough in it's own right; but with the addition of the maid outfit, it escalates to 'what the hell' levels of weird. Not to mention, she seems to be wearing some sort of weird-ass hat or something – it almost looks like a massive screw tightened into the back of her skull

"Ah, Flandre. Did you bring the tea?"

The woman finally speaks, breaking the awkward silence between the room's occupants.

"Huga."  
The small child nods, saying the same word again as she places a porcelain cup saucer onto the coffee table, an ornately-decorated silver mug seated precisely within the center of the dish. The cup itself is filled with some fancy tea or something; at least judging by the smell and the teabag string hanging from the side of the cup.

"Huga."  
There it is again; every time Flynn hears the small girl repeat that word, he could swear there's a slight metallic tinge in her voice..

"Yes, actually, one other thing..." the soldier raises an eyebrow at the bizarre spectacle as the woman continues to talk to the bite-sized maid – it seems as if the woman can actually understand her. "Take this man's bags to his quarters, would you?"

What the hell?

"Wait, I'll take care of it! That thing's heavy as shit, you can't just expect this kid to-"

The little girl picks up the massive backpack with with ease, lifting it above her head as if it were light as a feather.

"Huga."

Whatever that word means, it seems to be the only thing she can say. Face twisted with confusion, Flynn's eyes follow the miniature maid as she trots back through the door with the heavy bag in hand.

A few moments of silence pass – but finally, the soldier opens his mouth to speak:

"...You gotta be fucking _kidding_."


End file.
